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... inimize her presence.
“Average.”
“Why don’t you go back to the Rans and drink? They have all kinds of Junshan Silver Needle and Pre-Ming Longjing, much more high-class than the tea available in my little place. My small temple can’t afford to serve you, such a big Buddha.” Zheng Qing snatched up the teacup in Ming Jing’s hand and sat down opposite her with a huff.
Ming Xin stood up: “I feel a bit stuffy, I’m going out for a walk.”
She disappeared in a flash.
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